


beach blond

by orphan_account



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Summer Camp, F/M, M/M, Summer Camp AU, camp counselors
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-22
Updated: 2015-11-22
Packaged: 2018-05-02 19:38:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5261069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Percy just has a thing for blonds, okay.</p><p>// </p><p>In which Percy meets six blondes at the same summer camp over five different summers. The first teaches him that love isn’t as simple as gay or straight. The second breaks his heart. The third is just a one night stand. The next two teach him that two really is better than one. And the last one saves him from himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	beach blond

**Author's Note:**

  * For [doe_eyed](https://archiveofourown.org/users/doe_eyed/gifts).



_i. the councilor_

In hindsight, making out with Octavian was probably not Percy’s best idea.

Percy just has a thing for blonds, okay—not usually as sleazy as Octavian, though, and never men.

 _Oops_ , Percy thinks, arching his back and trying not to whimper as Octavian bites down on his bottom lip. On the one hand, Percy is ridiculously attracted to Octavian, no matter how big of an asshole the guy is. On the other, Percy isn’t gay.

Well. He _thought_ he wasn’t. Octavian might be changing his mind. Percy moans into Octavian’s mouth, reaching up desperately to yank at Octavian’s hair as the older boy palms Percy through his jeans.

“Ahem.”

Percy and Octavian jerk apart, whipping to face the owner of the voice. He’s got a thick scar on his cheek, and the tell-tale smirk of an assistant camp counselor on his lips. Tall, lean, and muscular, with frosty blue eyes, tan skin, and perfectly mussed blond hair.

Percy wants to lick the dusty pink lips forming that smirk. Blond hair, he decides, shouldn’t be as attractive as it is.

“Hi,” Percy murmurs, glancing down at his Chuck Taylors. Before Octavian, he never thought of another guy as attractive. But then Octavian showed up, and as harsh and rude and sleazy as he is, Percy felt an inexplicable pull in his gut, the same kind that he always feels when he notices a pretty girl. Now, Percy can’t help but notice that this camp counselor is attractive, even more attractive than Octavian. But Percy isn’t gay—or, at least, he hadn’t been before camp.

“Look,” the counselor begins in the same smug voice that all the counselors share, “I’m not going to tell you that you can’t make out all summer. Because that would be a dick move. I mean, I’m eighteen—I understand the appeal.” He smirks, shamelessly checking Percy out, and Percy’s cheeks get even hotter. “But seriously, it’s time for Capture the Flag, and if Mr. D finds out that you’re not participating, he’ll give you both clean up duty after dinner.”

Percy wrinkles his nose, and the counselor adds, “And trust me, I used to be a camper here. Let me tell you, dish duty is ten times worse than it sounds.”

Octavian makes a disgruntled sound in the back of his throat, stalking out of the cabin without looking back at Percy. Percy frowns at his retreating form, slouching back uncomfortably against the wall Octavian had pressed him up against. His pants are tight and stretched across his junk, and Percy curses internally. He just had to go and get a boner when there were things to be done.

The counselor seems to notice Percy’s discomfort, and his smirk gets even wider. “Your boyfriend seems like a charmer.”

Percy scowls. “He’s not my boyfriend. I’m not even gay. I’ve never even been attracted to another guy before.”

The counselor raises a slim eyebrow. “Being gay and being attracted to men are completely different things.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Percy asks, frowning, crossing his arms over his chest. The counselor shrugs.

“It means, you don’t have to be gay to like men. And you don’t have to be straight to like women.”

Percy wrinkles his brow. “I…I’m not following.”

A slow grin spreads over the counselor’s mouth. “It’s labels. They get in everyone’s heads. Everyone tells you that if you like men, you’re gay, and if you like women, you’re straight. And if you tell someone you like both, they’ll tell you that you’re just confused.”

Percy cocks his head to the side. “Are you bisexual?”

“Nah,” the counselor says, shaking his head. “I’m pan. Gender-blind.”

“Oh.” Percy frowns, trying to keep up with the conversation. “Isn’t that a label?”

The counselor laughs. “You’re adorable. Yeah, kid, that’s a label. I didn’t say labels in and of themselves are bad. They’re just bad when people use them to say you’re confused about your sexuality.”

“Oh,” Percy says again, and the counselor grins, motioning for Percy to follow him out of the cabin.

“I’m Luke, by the way. This is my third year as a counselor at CHB. I was a camper, too, in high school. Lost my virginity in the woods the summer before sophomore year.” Luke gestures towards the woods, and Percy’s cheeks grow hot at the suggestion of _Luke_ and _sex_ and _the woods_ , all right there in front of him.

“I’m Percy,” he says, choosing to ignore the second half of Luke’s comment.

“Well, Percy,” Luke says, smirking back at him, “I’ll be around camp if you need any more advice on sexuality. I’m really good at being the trendy gay friend, ask Thalia.”

Percy laughs. Thalia Grace is one of the more intimidating counselors, and Percy genuinely fears for his safety when she’s within eyesight. And sometimes when she isn’t; she has a habit of showing up when you least expect her.

“But you’re not gay,” Percy points out.

Luke shrugs. “I’m not exactly trendy, either. Unless bright orange t-shirts and board shorts are in this year.” He slaps Percy on the back and pushes him into the throng of campers gathering at the entrance to the woods. “I’ve got to go,” he says. “Got a team to lead, a team to crush…” He gives Percy a crooked smile. “I’ll go easy on you if I find you in the woods, kid.”

Then he’s gone, lost to the campers and counselors, everyone in the same hideously orange t-shirt. Percy falls in love, a little bit. And if he spends the rest of the summer tagging along behind Luke, well. No one’s going to know.

*

_ii. the brain_

Percy spends the first half of the summer before tenth grade falling in love with Annabeth Chase, and the second half falling out of love with her.

Annabeth is the kind of girl who can flip her hair over her shoulder seductively, give you the most frightening glare you’ve ever seen, and trip over her own shoe laces when she opens her mouth to say something witty and intelligent. Annabeth, for all the wrath wrapped up in her in her blond curls and stormy gray eyes, is the clumsiest girl Percy has ever met, and also the smartest.

Percy doesn’t know if he falls in love with Annabeth for her button nose or her princess curls or the way her eyes look when she’s caught up in a new idea. He doesn’t know if it’s because of her brain, or the way her shirts are starting to pull tightly across her chest and how she never bothers wearing a bra, or the way she can say something so absolutely scathing and rude and you’d thank her for it because she’s _Annabeth_. Maybe it’s the way she comes down to breakfast in the morning and greets Percy with a snarky comment, and Percy can see the ink on her fingertips and the bags beneath her eyes and the crease across her cheek where it was pressed into the coils on a notebook all night after she’d fallen asleep while working. Or the way she’s so smart and brilliant, but she can’t make it two feet without tripping.

It’s probably all of those things that drew Percy to her in an instant. It’s definitely all of those things that make it so hard for him to stop loving her.

On the first day of camp, when everyone was still finding their way to their cabins and meeting their camp counselors, Percy found Annabeth sitting on the dock by the lake, reading a book that looked like it weighed fifty pounds. Percy took one look at her long, blond hair, and the attraction was instantaneous. He wasn’t been able to stop himself from sitting down next to her and striking up a conversation.

Breaking up with Annabeth is the hardest thing Percy has ever had to do, but Annabeth pulls him aside one day after lunch and lays out the facts.

“You’re a distraction,” she says, shrugging one shoulder, her gray eyes stormier than usual.

“So?” Percy demand. He prays to whomever is listening that he doesn’t cry in front of Annabeth. “So what if I’m a distraction? What am I even distracting you from? You’re fifteen, not a rocket scientist.”

Annabeth’s eyes flash, and Percy would swear he sees lightning in them. “Today I’m fifteen and not a rocket scientist. Ten years from now I’m your wife and not an architect. You’re holding me back, Percy, because I would literally give up _everything_ for you. That’s why we can’t be together anymore.”

Percy purses his lips, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “You’re acting like we’ve been together for six years, not six weeks.”

Annabeth smiles sadly at Percy, pushing up onto her tiptoes to kiss his cheek. “I’m sorry,” she says softly, “but it feels like we’ve been together for six years, and that terrifies me.”

When she walks away, she doesn’t look back. Percy doesn’t try to stop her, but it feels like his world is dropping out from underneath his feet.

When he can talk about it, he’ll tell Luke that Annabeth was his first love, his first time. Reminisce that it was love at first sight, or whatever bullshit that is. But right now, he just trudges back to Luke’s cabin, because Luke somehow, inexplicably, always makes him feel better.

*

_iii. the god_

His name is Fred, but everyone calls him Apollo.

Percy doesn’t bother asking about the nickname—it’s obvious. Apollo has the body of a god, he writes terrible poetry but sounds like a fucking angel when he sings, and his teeth are so white, Percy feels like he’s looking into the fucking sun whenever Apollo smiles at him.

“What toothpaste do you use?” Percy asks when Luke introduces them. Then Percy reconsiders the question. “I mean—shit, not like that. I just... Christ, man, how is it even _possible_ for your teeth to be that white? Do you bleach them or—”

“You’re rambling,” Apollo interrupts, with a slow smirk and a lazy drawl. “You could put that pretty little mouth of yours to better use, you know.”

Percy blinks. “…what?”

Apollo laughs. “I’m hitting on you. Isn’t it obvious?”

Percy flushes, glancing down at his sneakers. “Oh, come on, I—”

“I’m _trying_ ,” Apollo interrupts again, and Percy wonders if it’s possible to literally _die_ from embarrassment.

“I’m—”

“Percy.” Luke’s voice cuts him off, and Percy jumps, remembering that Luke is still standing next to him, looking like he’s trying not to laugh. “Just sleep with him already.”

“You should,” Apollo agrees. “I’m a god in bed. I mean, that’s kind of the reason they call me Apollo.”

“I thought it was because of your teeth?” Percy wrinkles his brow, and Luke groans in exasperation.

“I’m leaving you two to sort this out. Be quiet about it, yeah?”

“I make no promises!” Apollo calls after Luke as the counselor jogs out of the woods, but Luke only flips him off.

Apollo turns back to Percy and press his finger tips to his temples. “Oh, I’m having a vision. You, beneath me, my fingers inside of you.” He waggles his eyebrows suggestively and leans forward, and wow, his teeth really _are_ that white. “ _You like it_.”

And, well. Percy always _did_ have a thing for blonds.

Later, when Apollo hits _that_ spot just right, the white flash that obscures the rest of the world for a few minutes is brighter than Apollo’s smile.

Even though it’s just a one night stand, and the next day finds Apollo whispering seductively into the ear of a pretty redheaded girl named Rachel, Percy reminds himself to thank Luke for his advice. Because his mother raised him to have manners.

*

_iv. the tricksters_

They’re not _proper_ blonds—their hair is the summer kind of blond, the kind that people with light brown hair get when the sun bleaches their hair—but Percy can’t help but notice them, anyways. Beach blond, he thinks, eyeing them from across the room as they guiltily spring apart from each other, mussed and flushed, shorts unbuttoned and swollen lips and  red marks bruising their exposed chests.

“But you guys are twins,” Percy says, his voice was faint as he stares at the two brothers. He came back to his cabin to get sunscreen for Rachel, and he really _didn’t_ expect to find his cabin mates making out on—oh, my god. Making out on _Percy’s_ bed.

“Not twins. Travis is two years older,” Connor corrects, his cheeks flushed red. Percy honestly can’t tell if it’s from arousal or embarrassment.

“Wait,” Percy says, “You’re not? You’re not twins?” The idea that the Stoll twins aren’t actually twins is more shocking than finding them making out in his bed is.

“We’re not,” Travis confirms. He hoists himself to his feet, crossing his arms over his chest defensively. “It’s not _sick_ ,” he hisses, his eyes sharp and his voice strong. “The attraction is totally normal.”

Percy is more than a little bit grossed out by the idea of making out with, say, Tyson, but… Remembering how Connor and Travis had been groping each other when Percy walked in is enough to send waves of arousal throughout Percy’s body.

It’s fucking _hot_.

“It’s actually kind of hot,” Percy admits, blushing. He shakes his head. “But really—you guys aren’t twins? Are you sure?”

Connor and Travis exchange amused looks.

“He’s really cute, Trav,” Connor says.

“I don’t know, Con.” Travis looks Percy up and down lazily. “I’m not sure he can handle _both_ of us.”

For a moment, Percy thinks they’re going to make him beg for something he didn’t ask for and didn’t know he wanted until five minutes ago. But then Connor crooks his fingers in the universal “come hither” gesture, and Percy feels weak in the knees.

Percy’s throat and ass are sore the next day, and Luke teases him relentlessly about it even as he listens to Percy recount every gory detail, but Percy’s cabin mates are kind of the best summer fling Percy could ask for. Even if he’s had his eye on a different blond for some time now.

*

_v. the savior_

During Percy’s last summer as a camper, he meets Thalia’s younger brother, Jason.

Jason is cool, for the most part, except that he _hates_ Percy. And Percy isn’t even entirely sure why.

So, Jason doesn’t approve of how much Percy smokes. Or drinks. Or the boys and girls Percy hangs out with in the woods, after curfew, a little bit high and a little bit horny. But Jason is just Percy’s roommate. He doesn’t _need_ Jason’s approval, and he doesn’t even need Jason to like him. He just wishes he’d stop feeling so goddamn guilty whenever he comes back to the cabin in the early hours of the morning, coming off of a high and a little bit sex-messy, to find Jason waiting up in his bunk, giving Percy a disappointed frown while Nico, the fourteen year old sharing their cabin, snores in the bed between them, lost to the world and unaware of the silent arguments happening over his head.

So Percy ignores him, mostly. And Nico, because Nico’s a goddamn nark and tells Jason whenever Percy does something Jason wouldn’t approve of. Which is kind of a lot, but Percy once caught Luke shot-gunning with Drew, one of the counselors, behind the mess hall. During dinner. Percy could be _way_ worse.

That’s what he tells himself, anyways, until he stumbles back to his cabin one morning, coming down from a bad high and shaking so bad he swears he’s vibrating.

Percy isn’t sure if Jason has been up all night or if he just woke up early, but Jason is awake when Percy gets back to the cabin either way, glasses low on his nose and a book propped open in his lap. If Jason wasn’t so hell-bent on hating Percy’s guts, Percy might even be attracted to the sleep-soft thing Jason has going for him, with his tousled blond hair and rumpled pajama pants. The smooth planes of Jason’s chest makes Percy _want_ , and he’s not sure he’s wanted someone this incessantly, this inexplicably, since Annabeth.

“Hey,” Percy says slowly, and the words sound slurred in his ears, the syllables drawn out longer than he wants them to, and when Jason looks up at him, disappointment drawing the lines of his face downwards and concern flickering in those clear blue eyes, Percy wants to cry. He wants his _mom_ , honestly, which is a weird thing for an almost nineteen year old boy to think, but he does. He just wants to be taken care of.

Jason, Percy thinks, would take care of him. If Percy let him.

“Hey,” Jason replies, voice as soft as the rest of him, a little bit rough from disuse. Jason looks Percy up and down, eyebrow arching high on his forehead. “You okay? You’re shaking.”

“I,” Percy starts, and then stops, his eyes stinging with tears, an impossible lump forming in the back of his throat. His voice cracks when he finally manages to say, “I’m really, really fucked up, Jason.”

Jason is out of bed in an instant, at Percy’s side, a sturdy hand on Percy’s hip and a caloused palm on Percy’s cheek, a litany of quiet murmurings, _hey, what’s wrong, don’t cry, I’m taking you to the infirmary, it’ll be okay_.

“No,” Percy hears himself say. “The infirmary…no. Luke.”

He’s not making sense, and Jason’s lips thin, but he nods, ushering Percy back out of the cabin. Jason used to live in California, Percy remembers hazily. That’s why Percy didn’t meet him until this summer. Jason lived with a foster parent. He’s only here this summer because he came to live with Thalia after he turned eighteen.

When Percy comes to, he’s in Luke’s cabin. Luke is leaning over him, a dark frown marring his pretty features. Thalia is hovering just in the corner of Percy’s vision, Jason next to her with his arms crossed over his chest, worrying his bottom lip with his teeth. Will Solace from the infirmary is there, too, looking grumpy and tired and maybe, Percy thinks, just as concerned as the rest of them.

“Hey, Percy,” Luke says, and his voice croaks on its way out. When Percy focuses on him, he can see the worry lines on Luke’s face, the concern in his eyes, and Percy and Luke have been friends for years, but this is the first time that it’s occurred to Percy that Luke maybe _loves_ him, too.

“Luke,” Percy echoes, his voice hoarse, and he reaches out blindly for Luke’s hand until their fingers are intertwined, tears stinging Percy’s eyes. “I’m sorry,” he hears himself say. “I’m so fucking sorry, Luke, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m…”

“Hey,” Luke says, “Hey, it’s okay. It’s okay.”

Before Percy blacks out again, he hears Luke say, “This has to stop, Percy. You have to stop doing this to yourself.”

Later, Percy will accredit getting better to Jason. He’ll throw his arm around Jason’s shoulder in later summers, telling everyone who listens about how his best friend, Jason Grace, saved his life.

But it wasn’t Jason, not really. It was the look on Luke’s face.

*

_vi. the endgame_

It’s Percy’s first year as a counselor, and he’s sitting on the dock with Luke, swinging his legs over the water and watching as a couple of girls in skimpy bathing suits upstream try to catch Luke’s attention.

“Hey,” Luke says, leaning over to bump his shoulder against Percy’s. “Get your head out of the clouds, Jackson. Those girls aren’t _that_ cute.”

Percy snorts softly. “They’re not my type,” Percy says, glancing back at Luke. What he means is, _they’re not you_ , but Luke doesn’t hear that part, and Percy doesn’t want him to.

“Yeah?” Luke asks. “Curvy bombshells aren’t your type?”

Percy rolls his eyes. “I mean,” he says, shaking his head, “they’re not _blond_.”

Luke laughs. “Right,” he says. “Blonds.”

He rolls his eyes, and Percy frowns at him. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

Luke shrugs. “It’s just weird, isn’t it? That you won’t even notice anyone who isn’t blond?”

“I’m not really noticing _anyone_ right now, anyways,” Percy points out. “I haven’t hooked up with anyone since last summer.”

Luke frowns at the memory. “Yeah,” he says, scratching at the scruff mapping out his jaw line. “For a while, everyone thought you were going to end up with Jason. But then Jason and Nico…”

“Yeah,” Percy agrees, nodding. “Guess I’m not the only one who has a thing for blonds.”

Luke is quiet again for a moment, and when he speaks, he says, “I like brunettes, personally. And green eyes. Fair skin. The works.”

Percy cuts a glance at him to see that Luke is already staring, and his heart starts beating faster. Luke can’t mean… “Huh,” Percy says. “That’s funny. My type is blond, you basically just described me… What a weird coincidence.”

Luke gives Percy the softest, most gentle look Percy has ever seen grace Luke’s features, and Percy’s nearly goddamn melts.

“C’mere,” Luke says, and Percy lets Luke draw him in, lips meeting in a slow, languid press, bodies sighing as they relax into one another.

Later, Percy will joke about how long Luke lusted after Percy’s “jailbait ass”—and Luke will joke about how Percy followed him around like a puppy dog, that first summer all those years ago.

Fingers linked, soft and sated in bed, just the two of them. They’re together now. It’s been a long time coming.

**Author's Note:**

> Dedicated to Jahfreen, because she talked me into writing this IN 2013 and I'm literally just now finishing it and I feel really bad. But, to be fair, I honestly never thought it would be finished, so this is like, a miracle in and of itself. Really, the only reason this was finished was because I rewatched Camp Takota (starring Grace Helbig, Mamrie Hart, and Hannah Hart--it's fantastic, please go watch it) and went "Oh my God, Lukercy camp counselors au," and then realized that, oh, right. I kinda already had one.


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